


Hold On to Me, Love

by arabmorgan



Series: Kink Meme Fills [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 12:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8402113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabmorgan/pseuds/arabmorgan
Summary: He may no longer be human, but he still hungers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Um, happy early Halloween? A bit of an experimental piece, so the writing might be totally funky. Please heed the warnings; this fic is my one-way ticket straight to the Underworld.
> 
> A fill for [this prompt](http://frostironkink.tumblr.com/post/148787080771/prompt-vampirelokihuntertony-loki-is-out):
>
>> Vampire!loki/Hunter!tony - Loki is out hunting in the woods one night and Loki comes across him walking alone on the paths. Manages to get any weapons off him before taking what he wants. Author can choose if Tony gets bitten or not and POV

The moon was bright and full in the sky.

It lightened him, stripped the endless years of existence away for just a few nights each month. For those scant few hours, he could stand beneath the light, bathe himself in its silver glow and recall with dim longing the sensation of pleasurable heat on his skin.

The human presence in the forest, on the other hand, was unexpected.

Mankind was superstitious; it took little but the spreading tales of mysterious disappearances and unexplained sightings to stoke the embers of fear in their veins. He too had once been a man, with lifeblood that thrummed strongly beneath his skin and the carelessness of one who little knew its value.

The wonderful scent called to him now, a siren song of mortal passion.

He moved among the trees, leaving the light of the moon behind with a regret that soon dulled. It had been months since his last taste of human blood, it being a rare delicacy rather than a necessity.

A part of him still recalled the intensity with which he had loved his mortal life, the stubborn strength with which he had clung to it even as he bled out into the stained soil. But even the most merciful of predators would not deny itself should its prey wander right into its welcoming jaws.

The human was entirely oblivious, a hunting knife at his belt and a bow in his hands, and yet he was not the apex predator he thought himself to be.

He moved swiftly now, caring little for the noise he left in his wake. In the short moment where the human became aware that the hunter was now the hunted, he heard the sudden panicked beat of that weak mortal heart, instinct for fight or flight awakening much too late.

He caught the human by the throat and lifted him with casual curiosity, the sudden surge of blood-scent almost overwhelming his customary vigilance. The frantic minute throbbing of the jugular beneath his palm brought the faintest sigh of pleasure to his lips.

“You – you’re _Loki_.” The man was thrashing now, eyes wide and ringed with white, bow laying where he had dropped it in his initial shock.

Loki paused, cocked his head. It had been a long time since he had heard that name; it seemed that more than his physical self was immortal after all.

He reacted to the sudden flash of sharp metal with instincts honed for years beyond counting, his free hand lashing out and twisting the human’s wrist until the fragile bones within crunched audibly.

The hunting knife, its edge wicked and serrated, landed amidst a clump of toadstools, but the dull thud was drowned out by the man’s scream of pain, its echo ragged even in the stillness of night.

To think that he too had once been as pitiful, as easily breakable.

Taking pity on the gasping creature, Loki pushed him up against a tree, grip loosening so that he was merely tilting the man’s neck upwards, the pulsing vein there irresistibly loud in his ears.

He pressed his nose to the man’s jaw, inhaling the musky scent of salt and terror, and blanketing it all, the sweet iron of pumping blood. His teeth drove tiny indents into sweat-slicked skin, until with a sudden prick his fangs slid through unresisting flesh and buried themselves in the steady flow of hot liquid.

The trace amounts of saliva coating his fangs was enough. The human’s struggles gradually ceased as the sedative-like effects took hold, eyes rolling up in his head as he sank limply against Loki, a sporadic slurred whimper straying past slack lips.

Warm blood slid down his dry throat, electrifying him, revitalising him for that brief spark of time that always, inevitably escaped from his grasp, leaving him cold and wanting once more.

But for now, for a single sliver of his eternity, he felt almost human, vulnerable to all its requisite lusts and passions. Slowly, he felt as the blood he was still ingesting swelled his cock and pulsed in his ears, intoxicating in its intensity.

He slid his fangs out of the man’s neck, pupils dilating further as he watched a thin line of crimson trickle downwards, collecting in a bared collarbone before the twin puncture wounds began to clot with swift efficiency.

How desperately humans fought to survive, and how easily they lost the battle.

He laid a hand on the human’s cheek, caressing the clammy skin with heady enjoyment. Dark eyes fluttered open at his touch, glazed and unseeing, and he smiled at the disoriented human with gentle compassion.

“What is your name?”

He always tried to remember those who had provided him with such delightful sustenance. Their importance faded as the years rolled by, but for a short while at least, he gave them what immortality he could, far beyond the memories of those they called kin.

The man blinked at him, mouth working silently, sweat beading prominently between his upper lip and the bristles of his facial hair.

“Speak,” Loki coaxed. “I am listening.”

“T-Tony.” The word slipped out even as the man’s head lolled, and Loki carefully set him face-down upon the ground. His cock was still throbbing with fresh blood, and he was eager not to waste this opportunity.

He tore away the seat of Tony’s trousers with ease and set aside the black cloak he had taken for his own garb, revealing the swollen organ that could provide him with such fulfilment. Easily gained and just as easily forgotten; with every victim he took, it was as if he was being reborn, blinded and deafened by the acuity of his pleasure.

Hoisting Tony’s hips upwards, he sheathed himself in the human’s body in a single motion, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. The movement seemed to jolt the man back into wakefulness, and he began to mewl quietly, fingers scrabbling at the dirt as he hung listlessly in Loki’s grasp.

He thrust slowly, watching with detached interest as Tony continued to writhe in his grip, muffled moans sounding each time his shattered wrist was jarred.

It took only a few moments more for the invigorating scent of fresh blood to reach Loki’s nostrils, and he inhaled deeply, impaling Tony more forcefully as passive neutrality gave way to arousing anticipation.

He loosened his grip on the human with deliberate intent, watching with cruel enjoyment as he allowed Tony to scramble halfway off his blood-slicked cock, before dragging the wretched creature back, flush against his hips.

Tony sobbed and whined with renewed vigour each time Loki rammed into him, until he lost control of himself and a sudden flow of sour-smelling urine spilled down the inside of his thighs, stained red by the slow drip of blood leaking from his lacerated flesh.

Finally tiring of the game, Loki resumed his steady pace, slamming rhythmically in and out of the human with reckless abandon, the high-pitched keening not quite drowning out the wet slap of skin against skin.

His climax engulfed him with all the force of a raging inferno, a maelstrom of overwhelming sensations that licked at every shrieking nerve ending he possessed. He listed momentarily to the side before righting himself, eyes lidded rapturously.

His cock twitched with the last of his release, sending a small spurt of Tony’s own blood dribbling back into him.

Truly, memory was a poor substitute for the stunning beauty of human senses. When one had lived as long as he, the passing of time inevitably dulled the rise and fall of emotion, hills and valleys transitioning into gently undulating plains; only those whose days were numbered experienced every moment with the same sensitivity as the last.

Gently, he turned Tony over, stroking fondly at the human’s ravaged face, scraped raw by the roughness of the soil and roots.

Poor, fragile creature that he was, he had at least given pleasure in the last moments of his life to one who had not experienced such in too long.

“You will not be forgotten, Tony,” he promised tenderly, as he bent and sunk his fangs once more into the human’s neck.

The man’s pulse was weak and fluttering, but even unto the end, his fingers twitched spasmodically as if in denial of his fate.

When he heard the death rattle whisper its way out of Tony’s chest, Loki drew back and petted lightly at the dirt-encrusted dark hair, tongue darting out to lick indulgently at his ruby-stained lips.

It was such a shame, he thought, as he methodically went about separating head from body, that humans perished so easily. He could not, after all, afford to invite competition into his territory.

Retrieving his cloak, he draped himself anew in death and darkness, and left to seek what little remained of the moonlight.


End file.
